


habibi

by scarsimp



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Insecurity, Insomnia, M/M, Scar, Scar has the occasional insecurity about his, Well - Freeform, all the pet names are arabic, listen to habibi by tamino for the full experience
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:21:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25798075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarsimp/pseuds/scarsimp
Summary: "There is nothing wrong with you or your face, alright?"
Relationships: Miles/Scar (Fullmetal Alchemist)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 22





	habibi

**Author's Note:**

> Habibi - my darling
> 
> Rafiqi - uhhh the best is 'my dearest companion' if I remember correctly 
> 
> It's arabic bc. Tamino and also it Fits n also theres a beautiful fic in here where miles calls him rafiqi and it kills me okay

The ceiling was rather boring to look at after living in the same place for a year. After a while the swirls and checkered marks became familiar, something both foreign and comforting all the same. The warm body asleep next to him was much the same— this time a year ago, he would've never, even in his wildest dreams, dare think about something like this happening to  _ him _ .

He could scarcely comprehend it now, and he tore his eyes from the ceiling to steal a glance of Miles besides him. Soundly asleep and with his hair down, it was rare to see him so relaxed with himself. There was a thin braid draped across his brow, moving slightly with each breath Miles took, and he couldn't quite stop himself from rolling onto his side to brush it behind his ear. 

He stared for a moment longer, eyes tracing the strong brow and elegant nose, before he smiled faintly to himself. His lips fell just as quickly when it pulled at the thick tissue of his forehead, stinging partially and deadened. He brought a hand up to rub at it, before his frown deepened. 

He forgot occasionally, just how large it was. It was broader than his palm, just narrowly avoiding taking his eyes out. Just as disfiguring even without the success. His thumb scraped over his hairline and he squeezed his eyes shut and brought his hand back down, fingers wrapping into the fine cloth of the bedsheets. 

It was times like this that he desperately wished he had taken Marcoh's advice on insomnia medication. His thoughts were always more insidious at night, thick like oil and just as dark. 

"You're thinking too loud," Miles' voice was slow and sleepy, startling the other, before Miles shifted to wrap a heavy arm around his waist. "C'mon, what's up?" 

He frowned, shifting to press himself closer. "Go back to sleep, it's late. I'll be fine." 

"See, that's what we're  _ not _ gonna do, yeah?" Miles snorted, passing a hand to tug the sheet higher over his chest. He hadn't even realized he was chilled. 

"What are we doing then?" He sighed, averting his eyes. 

"Nope— look at me. What we're doing is this: you're gonna tell me what's wrong, and then you're gonna lay here and let me hold you. Okay?" When he didn't respond Miles quirked an eyebrow and lightly prodded his arm. "Earth to rafiqi, hello?" His voice was light but he could hear the worry underneath it. That more than anything made him speak. 

"Okay." Miles leveled him with an exasperated look when he didn't continue, before he sighed and gathered his thoughts. "I—" he paused, ' _ I don't know how to say it' _ is what he was tempted to express, though he fought that impulse down. "I'm—" started again, stopped again before huffing and waving at his face. 

"Your face?" Miles seemed perturbed, raising a hand to rest on his cheek. "Is the scar bothering you again? I think there's something for pain in the cupboard if you need it." 

He shook his head, "It only really bothers me while it rains," he said with a small shrug. "It's not..  _ it _ , it's the fact that it's on my  _ face. _ " He turned partially away from Miles, raising fingers to prod at the mark. "It's the first thing anyone sees." 

"Where's all this coming from?" Miles asked quietly, sitting up on his elbows to stare down at him. "You've never been one to care about other's opinions." 

"I still don't care about  _ other _ people," he muttered. "It's the first thing  _ you _ see, too. You and Mei both." 

"Rafiqi, I—" Miles fell silent for a moment, before decidedly shifting to lay back down by him, wrapping firm arms around his waist and resting his chin on his shoulder. "And where did you get the idea that it bothers me?" 

If he was honest he didn't truly know. It just crept up on him at times, whenever he stared too hard in a mirror, or heard too many whispers. ".. I don't know," he admitted out loud as well, "It just— it's on my face." The next sentence stung. "I can't even remember what I used to look like."

Miles didn't respond, and he wondered if he had admitted something too far before the other squeezed his torso firmly and finally spoke. "I guess it's a good thing you have me, then." 

When he made a confused noise, the other continued. "Here's the thing, rafiqi, I love every inch of you. That includes your scar, even if you don't like it. It's a part of you, and you know what it means?" 

Something bitter was in his mouth when he answered Miles, tasting of ash. "It marks me as unable to protect myself."

"Hell no, it means you  _ survived _ ." He blinked down at Miles' hands when he said that, "Your body did its job and healed you. That's what a scar is, and that's what this one means. If it didn't then I wouldn't be able to hold you right now." Miles' voice was even, though quiet as he rubbed a thumb along the bony crop of his wrist. 

Something about his voice made it believable, even if just for the night. He moved his hand, ignoring Miles' minor noise of protest before he twined their fingers together instead. "Thank you." It was quiet but genuine, and suddenly he was exhausted.

Instead of responding, Miles pressed a gentle kiss to the slope of his forehead, unflinching when his lips touched thin scar tissue. Something about it sent butterflies through his stomach, making his heart pick up like he was a teenager all over again. "There is nothing wrong with you or your face, alright?"

He hummed, nodding. The next thing Miles said made him almost squirm with a flood of giddiness, a small laugh bubbling in his throat. 

"Exactly right, habibi." 


End file.
